by Agatha Frost
“What?” Barker asked, his brows pinching together.
Before Julia could tell him, the lights suddenly dimmed, and Ross marched onto the stage, stopping when he reached the spotlight. In his purple crushed velvet jacket and fluffy cravat, he looked every inch the eccentric director, even if his youthful face gave him away.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice echoing without the aid of a microphone. “I hope you’re all excited to see the play. I’ll keep this short and sweet, I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Ross Miller, and I am the new director of the Peridale Amateur Dramatics Society. After a dull period of mundane plays, I hope you will all appreciate the work myself and the excellent cast and crew have put into ‘A Festive Murder’, a play that I wrote myself especially for you fine people. Please, enjoy the evening because I think you’re all going to be pleasantly surprised.”
Ross bowed before hurrying off the stage. There was a smattering of applause, which intensified when the curtains drew back to reveal the dark stage. Through the darkness, Julia could see Dot sitting at a kitchen table, staring into a glass of something. Light consumed the darkness, illuminating the scene of a small kitchen with a large Christmas tree in the corner. For a moment, Dot glanced out at the full audience, her nerves obvious, but as though she was an actress with decades of experience, she stood up with her glass in her hand to deliver her opening monologue.
“Christmas!” she announced, an unexpected grit to her voice as she stared into the distance. “A time for love and family. A time for us to give and receive, and to realise what’s important. Ha! This Christmas, my life changed forever, and here is the story of how it happened.”
Dot stepped back to her seat at the table, the lights and sound signifying a rewind in time. Julia spotted the redheaded young woman run onto the stage to take away the Christmas tree. When the time travelling stopped, Marcus, as Jimmy, marched through the door in the set and kissed Dot on the cheek. Julia shuddered as she thought about what she had seen in Marcus’ dressing room.
If any of the cast were nervous, Julia could not tell. She sat through all of the first act, completely engrossed in the relationship of Jimmy and Darcy Monroe. She forgot about Dot and Marcus, and the outside world. She laughed at their happy times, cried at their sad times, and gasped along with the rest of the hall when Darcy walked in on Jimmy in bed with his assistant, Mandy Smith, played by Marcus’ real-life blonde wife, Catherine. When the closing curtains signalled the end of the first act, Julia found herself clapping rapturously along with everyone else.
“Wow,” Barker whispered as he clapped too. “Your gran is amazing.”
“Even I’m enjoying it,” Jessie said, also clapping. “I’ve never even seen a play. I thought they were all boring.”
Along with the rest of the people in the hall, they made their way to the tables at the sides where Julia’s gingerbread men were being handed out with mulled wine. She watched as people took bites of the carefully decorated biscuits, pleased when she saw the usual closing of the eyes as they enjoyed her creation. Julia grabbed a small cardboard cup of mulled wine, but kindly rejected a gingerbread man; after staying up until the early hours of the morning to finish the order, if she never saw another gingerbread man again, it would be too soon.
Johnny walked over, his camera in one hand, a gingerbread man in the other. He snapped a picture of Julia before taking a bite of the biscuit.
“Delicious as always, Julia,” he said as he licked the crumbs from his lips. “I don’t know how you do it.”
He wandered off with his camera again, snapping other people before wandering back towards the stage. Before Julia knew it, a voice boomed over the speaker system announcing that the interval was coming to an end. With her mulled wine in hand, Julia made her way back to her seat.
“They wouldn’t give us any wine,” Jessie said with a sulk, her arms crossed. “Wanted ID. Idiots.”
Julia took another sip of her mulled wine before passing it to Jessie. She took a sip, screwed up her face, and spat it back into the cup.
“Gross,” Jessie said as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “You can have it back.”
Julia stared down into the cup with a chuckle. It had taken years for her to appreciate the taste of wine, and she was sure she had pulled a similar face on her first tasting at Jessie’s age. She carefully placed the cup on the floor just in time for the curtains to open again. The set had changed from the kitchen to a study, and the mood of the characters had obviously shifted. It started with Darcy and Mandy arguing. Darcy slapped Mandy, causing the crowd to gasp. The scene suddenly shifted along, and when Darcy and Jimmy were alone in the study, Julia could sense what was coming.
The argument bubbled up, and Julia found herself edging closer to the stage. When Mandy hurried in, and Darcy walked over to the table, she felt everyone in the village hall squinting into the dark.
“What’s in her hand?” Barker whispered.
The light shifted, bringing the gun into view. The entire hall gasped, and for a moment, Dot seemed to break character as she looked down at the gun, which up close, looked incredibly heavy in her hands.
“Darcy!” Marcus cried as he stared at the gun, just as he had yesterday during the rehearsal. “Let me explain! It’s Christmas.”
“I’ve had thirty years of explanations,” Dot said, her voice shaking as she held the gun. “And I’ve had enough!”
She squeezed the trigger and fired the gun, and as though he had been hit with the force of a car, Marcus flew backwards at the same time as the sound effect. Silence fell on the hall, all eyes glued on the gun. It seemed to go on much longer than in the rehearsal, and the silence only stopped when Dot dropped the gun and stumbled back, her hands clasped against her mouth. Marcus coughed, his body rising up before deflating like a balloon.
“What have you done?” Mandy, played by Marcus’ wife, Catherine, cried as she ran to his side. “You’ve killed him!”
When Julia noticed the trickle of blood running down the side of the stage, she suddenly stood up.
“Julia?” Jessie questioned, tugging on her sleeve. “What are you doing?”
Julia turned to her gran, who locked eyes with her. Julia had no idea what happened next in the play, but she was sure it did not include Darcy ripping off her wig and sliding down the bookcase.
“Why are you all just sitting there?” Catherine shrieked, breaking the fourth wall as she stared out past the spotlight and into the crowd. “Somebody do something!”
More people joined Julia in standing, the chatter suddenly bubbling up, no one quite sure if what was happening was part of the play. When Barker stood up by Julia’s side and grabbed her hand, the seriousness of the situation overtook her. Pulling away from Barker, she sprinted for the steps at the side of the stage. At that moment, the spotlight cut out and the curtains started to close. In the dark, Julia stared down at Marcus, the blood on his motionless white shirt far too real to be fake.
“Gran,” Julia whispered, her voice shaking as she turned around. “What have you done?”
4
Julia picked Dot up off the ground and dragged her backstage. She forced her into the seat in front of her dressing table and grabbed her arms.
“Gran?” Julia cried, clicking in front of Dot’s eyes. “Gran, I need you to look at me.”
Dot’s hand shakily reached out for the hip flask on the dressing table, but Julia quickly pushed it out of the way; the last thing Dot needed was more alcohol in her system.
“How much of that did you drink?” Julia asked as she firmly shook Dot’s shoulders. “Gran? Please say something.”
“I just killed a man,” Dot mumbled, tears welling up along her lashes as she looked down at her twisted fingers. “I just shot a man dead. I – I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Julia said, crouching down so they were eye level in the dark backstage area. “I need you to tell me what happened.”
&
nbsp; Dot opened her mouth, but before she could attempt to explain herself, two uniformed officers appeared, followed by Barker.
“Ma’am, please step away,” one of the officers said to Julia.
“She’s my gran,” Julia said firmly, not letting go of Dot’s shoulders. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
“Julia –” Barker started.
“Don’t do this,” Julia cried, jumping up, her finger extended to Barker. “Don’t tell me this is ‘just how it is’. You know her. She didn’t do this on purpose. She was acting. Someone must have switched the gun. It’s obvious!”
The officers looked at each other, and then at Barker, but his eyes were glued on Julia. He tilted his head, his eyes filled with sadness; Julia knew exactly what was coming next.
“Sir, if she doesn’t step away, we’ll need to arrest her too,” the second officer whispered to Barker. “I know she’s your –”
To Julia’s surprise, Dot shrugged off her hands and stood up, her spine stiff and her lips tight. She pulled off her microphone and dropped the battery pack onto the dressing table with a thud. With the confidence of ten men, she walked over to the officers with her wrists outstretched and her head held high.
“Go easy on me, fellas,” Dot said, strength in her voice. “I’m an old woman.”
Barker stepped back, his hand pinching between his brows; he could not watch as his officers arrested Dot. Julia opened her mouth to object, to scream that something had gone wrong, but the words all tried to come at once, jamming deep in her throat. She felt like she was in a nightmare.
“Dorothy South,” the arresting officer started as he secured the metal handcuffs around her wrists. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Marcus Miller.”
As he read Dot her rights, her expression did not falter. She nodded along that she understood while keeping her composure, which almost made it harder to watch. When they were finished, the officers stood on each side of her, their hands clamping around her slender arms.
“I won’t put up a fight,” she insisted, holding up her cuffed hands. “Let me walk out of here with my dignity.”
The two officers stared at Barker for permission, but all he could offer was a shaky nod. They let go of her arms, and instead of leading her out, one stood in front of her and the other behind to let her walk freely. Dot turned to look at Julia, but before their eyes met, Dot stopped herself and dropped her head. She inhaled deeply and then pointed her chin upwards before walking.
“Barker,” Julia said, the word catching at the back of her mouth. “Do something!”
“There are over one hundred witnesses out there,” Barker said, his own voice shaking. “You know there’s nothing I can do right now.”
Julia forced out a dry laugh before walking right past Barker and around the side of the stage. She watched as Dot walked slowly through the central aisle of the village hall, the onlookers all staring with their mouths wide open; Julia could have heard a pin drop. The officers each took one of the double doors, leaving Dot to walk through them alone.
“This has to be a joke,” Jessie cried, her anger echoing around the silent hall. “Julia, tell me this is a joke.”
Jessie’s eyes darted past Julia, causing her to turn around. Barker walked around the side of the stage like a shy schoolboy on his way to the headmaster’s office.
“Barker?” Jessie cried as she pointed at the doors. “Stop this!”
All eyes turned expectantly to Barker, except Julia’s. She stared ahead at Jessie, smiling apologetically. Jessie shook her head and stumbled back into Billy’s arms, the chatter in the village hall erupting almost immediately.
“I have a job to do,” Barker said, his hand resting heavily on Julia’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Julia shrugged his hand away, unable to look at him just as she could not when Dot had been arrested. She knew it was not his fault, but she could not believe how little of a fight he had put up for her grandmother.
A team of officers arrived moments later and began questioning people one by one before clearing them out of the hall. When it was time for Jessie and Billy to be questioned, they both walked out of the hall hand in hand, leaving the officers behind. Julia held back and blended in with the crew, who were all huddled by Jayesh’s booth, the shared shock of the situation keeping them silent.
The curtain suddenly parted at the side. Catherine stumbled out, mascara tears streaking her cheeks. She collapsed onto one of the chairs on the front row, blood on the hem of her dress. Ross followed her out and handed her a tissue from his pocket. She dabbed at her eyes before bursting into painful sounding sobs. It was not long before an officer walked over to talk to the recently widowed actress.
For the first time since she moved the Christmas tree off stage during the first scene of the play, Poppy, the redheaded young woman, wandered towards the rest of the crew in front of Julia, her wide eyes vacant. Jayesh jumped down from his booth and immediately embraced her, but she quickly pushed him away. She whispered something into his ear, he nodded, and then they both walked off together towards the double doors. Thanks to Jessie and Billy’s escape, two officers stopped them from leaving until they had been questioned. They doubled back and sat alone on the back row.
It did not take long for the village hall to thin out as the police worked through who was important and who was just another eyewitness with an identical story to the other hundred plus witnesses. The crew members surrounding Julia began to disappear one by one, and her hopes of sticking around for as long as possible so she could look around unnoticed seemed to be less and less likely to happen. The only person who seemed to be going unseen was Carlton Michaels, the elderly cleaner, who was already shuffling along the tables at the sides of the room, sweeping up the gingerbread men crumbs while mumbling and grumbling under his breath.
In the seat Julia had been sat in, an officer was questioning the director and writing down his statement. When the officer snapped her notepad shut and left Ross alone, Julia took the seat next to him, and for a moment, went unnoticed by the shocked director.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his bravado and enthusiasm from earlier notably absent. “Now isn’t the time.”
“My name is Julia,” she said with an outstretched hand. “Julia South. Dot is my grandmother. I was the one who baked the gingerbread men.”
Ross turned in his seat and stared at Julia for a moment. He looked down at her hand but did not take it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and wiped down his face roughly with his hands.
“Listen, lady,” he started. “If you’re trying to get paid, your timing is laughable. My uncle was just murdered right before my eyes, my opening night was ruined, and my reputation is never going to survive this.”
Ross looked across the hall at Catherine, who was sobbing into a tissue while an officer attempted to comfort her.
“I’m sorry about all of the above,” Julia said, edging closer to him. “But my gran didn’t murder your uncle. Not intentionally, I believe. I need to know about the gun.”
“It was just a prop,” he said with a shake of his head. “We got it from one of the old prop boxes. It’s just a firecracker. It can’t fire real bullets.”
“Is it possible someone switched the gun?” Julia asked eagerly, making eye contact with Barker across the hall. “Who had access to the props?”
“Why would someone do that?” Ross cried with a strained laugh. “Who did you say you were again?”
Barker left the officer he was talking to, making a course for Julia across the hall; she knew she did not have long.
“Just answer my question,” she whispered darkly. “Could someone have switched the gun?”
“I – I think so,” he said with an uncertain nod. “We rehearsed earlier today, and it was still the prop. They’re not under lock and key. It was just on a table backstage.”
“So, in theory, any one of the cast and crew could have done it?”
Ross frowned
at Julia, and for a moment, she thought he was about to laugh at her for even daring to suggest that one of them had switched the gun to intentionally kill Marcus, but his expression darkened when Julia did not falter.
“I suppose so,” he muttered with a nod. “Why are you asking me all of this?”
Deciding she had heard everything she was going to, Julia left Ross’ side to meet Barker halfway. They stood a metre apart in front of the stage, neither of them seeming to know what to say.
“Forensics are on the way,” he said. “Julia, you –”
“Can’t be here,” she said with a nod. “I know.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just –”
“Doing your job,” she said, dropping her head. “It was a different story at your birthday party when it was your family on the line.”
“That was different,” Barker muttered, his brows dropping over his eyes. “I can’t do this right now. Just know that I love you, Julia, and I know Dot didn’t intentionally murder that man. I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that, but it’s not going to be easy.”
“Promise me you’ll get her out,” Julia said, looking him deep in the eyes. “Promise me she’s not going to spend Christmas in a cell.”
Barker opened his mouth as though he was about to, but he stopped himself. He rubbed across the lines on his forehead, only stopping when his phone rang in his pocket.
“I need to take this,” he said helplessly as he frowned at his screen. “Please, Julia. You have to understand. We’ll talk about this later.”
Barker pushed the phone against his ear and turned away. At that moment, the doors opened once again, and people in white forensic suits marched in, ordering everyone to vacate the scene. Julia did not argue. She walked out into the snow, leaving behind her coat, gloves, and scarf.
“He can’t promise, but I will,” she whispered in the direction of the police station across the village as the wind whipped snowflakes in circles around the village green. “I’ll figure this out, Gran. I promise.”
